Giving Up the Ghost (14 page)
“She’s gone,” Nick whispered, still feeling the emotion of it. The sorrow was a deep ache that made it hard to breathe.
John nodded. “I can tell that much.” His shoulder lifted slightly as he ran his hand over Nick’s back, the slow pressure comforting. “They leave everything feeling brighter. Emptier.” He helped Nick stand, never letting go of him. “Do you know who she was? Did she say?”
Nick shook his head, still clutching at John’s sleeve. “Her sister’s Selena. I think her name was something with an A -- Anne, maybe.” The sunshine on his skin felt unnatural, too white, and he wished he’d bought sunglasses when he’d seen them at the airport. He’d been too exhausted then, and too distanced from John, to be able to really think about anything. He lifted his face and looked at John, whose nose was starting to look a bit pink. “We should get sunblock. Hats.” Nick managed a smile. “You know, really embrace the tourist experience. God, I love you.”
“A hat?” John looked horrified. “I don’t wear hats.” His hand slid over Nick’s as he spoke, linking their fingers. “And the only thing I want to embrace is you.” He held Nick’s gaze, giving him a faint smile. “But I’m by way of being shy, so I’ll wait until we’re back in our room to do that.”
They stared at each other for a moment and then John said softly, “I love you, too. Never doubt it.”
Do you?
Nick wanted to ask, but he drew a shaky breath instead and turned away without letting go of John’s hand. He was so confused. “We need to find her. Selena. And…” He could feel more ghosts waiting, wanting him, but there were too many people around and the thought of being overwhelmed like that was more than he could handle just then. “I’ll need to come back. Tonight? Once it’s dark and everyone’s gone.” He didn’t know if everyone would be gone, or how to work out the timing with
John’s hand tightened on his. “The easiest way, aye? Anne? Well, there was a passenger list printed in one of the newspapers; I’ll check that and see if we can get her full name, and then --” He hesitated a moment. “Then you can ask that reporter to help you find her sister. He’s probably been interviewing everyone he can get his hands on, and we might as well use him. Call him when we get back to the hotel and arrange to meet him early tonight and tell him what you need. We’ll come here afterwards, as late as you like. How’s that sound?”
“Yes,” Nick said, so grateful that he would have done anything John had asked of him just then, no matter what it had been. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He was so tired, even though they’d slept for a few hours in the middle of the day, and he didn’t know if it was because of jet lag or the sheer emotion of the situation, of finding out that he had -- God, a half brother somewhere, maybe.
“And you’ll eat something,” John went on, sounding, for a moment, disturbingly like his mother, who was never going to be anything more than polite to Nick as long as she lived and probably not after, “and rest, because you’re all but dead on your feet.”
It wasn’t the best choice of words but Nick couldn’t really argue with him. He was.
“Yes,” he said again, following the gentle tug of John’s hand. “Yes, I am.”
* * * * *
John scrawled the details of the two Annes and one Angela he’d found on the passenger list onto a piece of paper and pushed it over to Nick. “They’re the most likely. Do you want to ring him, then?”
Nick nodded, the pallor under his tan still making him look exhausted. They’d eaten, with Nick’s eyes half-closing as he chewed listlessly at another meal from the limited room service menu, and then fallen asleep, the thick curtains drawn against the sun. John had woken first, staring down at Nick’s face, frowning even in sleep, tense and worried. It wouldn’t get easier on him, not until they were on their way home, and John hated knowing that for certain, because it meant that there was nothing he could do to help.
It’d been one hell of a day and it wasn’t over yet. John stabbed the pen he’d been using into the notepad, punching small holes in the paper for no good reason at all but to be destructive, as his mother would have told him, before snatching the pen away and rapping his knuckles with it.
He’d been waiting for Nick to bring up the twin subjects of his father’s girlfriend and son, revelations which had to have left Nick feeling stunned, then curious -- about his brother anyway. John didn’t think that there was much mystery to Alicia. Nick hadn’t said a word, though, and the vague disquiet John had felt about that had been channeled into his response to
How Nick had swallowed the thin story the man had fed him, John didn’t know. Or missed the looks. Plain as day that the reporter had taken a fancy to Nick, or was trying that angle to get what he wanted.
John wasn’t sure which of those options annoyed him the most, but he was damned sure Nick wasn’t going to meet
“Uh-huh,” Nick was saying into the phone. His eyes went to the paper John had been mangling, then his gaze lifted to meet John’s questioningly. John shrugged, and Nick’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. “Yeah, but you’ll have to decide where. We don’t exactly know the area.” He smiled properly this time at something that
John didn’t like the sound of that, or the hopeful tone of Nick’s voice, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t need the help, and they were rather limited as far as where that help might come from.
“I have a message for the sister of one of the people who died, and I need to get it to her. Yeah -- all I know is her name is something like Anne -- um, not the sister, the one who died -- the sister is Selena.” Nick read the names John had written down to
“So he’s going to help you.” John didn’t make it into a question; there wasn’t any point when he knew the answer. “That’s…good.” He nodded, trying to look convincing, and knowing before Nick grinned at him that he hadn’t come close. “When and where?” he said gruffly.
“At his hotel. First he kind of suggested some restaurant where they have country music and line dancing, but he was kidding.” Nick smiled slightly at the memory. “He said he was just going to be hanging around tonight working on some stuff, so whenever.” He looked uncertain suddenly, in the same way he had earlier when they’d been back at the crash site and he’d admitted he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. “When do you think we should go?”
John shrugged. “We should give him some time to get the information we need before we see him.” He looked around the hotel room, feeling suddenly hemmed-in. “Look, why don’t we do what you said; do the tourist thing for an hour or two.” He gave Nick a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll buy you a drink with a wee, fancy umbrella in it, if you like, at one of those bars on the beach, and we can maybe…well, we could…talk?”
Usually, that would be the last thing he felt like doing when they had a problem, but there were times Nick needed pushing, and this felt like one of them. And John had had enough of Nick’s silence.
“Okay.” Nick didn’t sound thrilled about the idea, but John tried not to take that personally; it wasn’t as if he was looking forward to it, after all.
They found a bar that wasn’t quite as crowded as the rest -- technically it was the dinner hour and the place didn’t serve much in the way of food, so most people had probably departed for restaurants at this point. Nick did, indeed, order a drink that came with an umbrella; some sort of fruit based thing. John found himself approving based solely on the fact that the thing had to provide some vitamins, which Nick was looking like he needed, then silently berated himself for turning into his mother.
Leaning back in his chair, Nick sipped at the drink, then licked his lips. The crash of the waves was audible from where they were sitting even over the sound of the music.
John took a sip of beer, light and sharp and cold, and fiddled with a fraying corner of the woven mat in the center of the table. “You have a brother.”
It seemed to be more of a conversation stopper than a starter. Nick stared at him in silence and John tried again. “It must be -- well, I can’t think of a word. And I can’t imagine how it feels because I’ve always had my sisters so I’m used to it. You’ll be wanting to go and see him?”
“If he even exists,” Nick said, not looking up. His eyes were focused on John’s fingers as they frayed the mat further, though, so at least he wasn’t denying John’s presence. “He might not. She might just have been…who knows.”
“She sounded pretty angry about it,” John pointed out. “I don’t think she’d have made it up. Especially if she thinks the boy’s entitled to this money your dad’s supposed to have won.”
Money he was glad Nick didn’t seem interested in. Lord knew they could use it; the house needed a new roof and his boat was getting old…but they’d manage, the two of them, without taking money from a dead man’s pockets.
Nick was quiet, staring at his glass. “He probably should have the money,” he said. “If he does exist, and if the money exists, and if there’s a way to get it.” He sounded far away, though, and John didn’t like it.
“His mother can fight this Alicia for it.” John nudged Nick’s foot gently under the table, wanting to jolt him out of his self-absorption. “You’ve got enough on your plate; it’s not your problem. I just thought you might want to meet him, but if you don’t --”
“It’s not that.” Nick was silent long enough that John wondered if this whole idea had been a bad one, but then his gaze flickered up to meet John’s. “What if he doesn’t want to meet
me?
What if he doesn’t even know about me, and finding out just…fucks things up for him?” He lifted his glass, plucking the paper umbrella out and dropping it onto the table before downing most of the drink in several swallows. “My own father didn’t want anything to do with me; I don’t see why this kid would.”
“Your father was a stupid fucking --” John stopped himself. Nick didn’t need to hear an opinion John had kept bottled up for as long as he’d known Nick. Not now, when it had ceased to matter. “He left your mother, not you, and he lost his chance to get to know you, which serves him bloody well right. Your brother’s different. He’s a child, like you were, and he’s lost his dad, just like you did. Could be you’d have a lot to say to each other.”
He stretched his hand out across the table, palm up, curling the tips of his fingers under the rolled-up cuff of Nick’s shirt and rubbing his knuckles against Nick’s wrist for a moment. That, just that, was enough to have his pulse jumping. He’d missed touching Nick so much in the weeks Nick had been so caught up in his dreams. Missed the casual kisses as they worked together in the kitchen preparing a meal, chatting away about something or nothing, both of them knowing how easily the kisses could turn heated, frantic, until they were fumbling at zips, trying to get to skin, grinning at each other between hard, hungry, frantic kisses. Christ, he’d shoved Nick up against the kitchen table once and gone to his knees to get him off, only to find he was still clutching a carrot in his hand.
Smiling at the memory of that, and of the expression on Nick’s face as he’d looked down, John let his hand lift to cup Nick’s face, careless for once about who might be looking. Let them look. “And he’ll be lucky to have you in his life,” he said softly. “The same way I am.”
“I’m the one who’s lucky.” Nick sounded as if he meant it, but his eyes didn’t quite reflect the same openness that they might have a month or two ago, and they clouded over far too quickly. He raised his own hand and caught John’s, then kissed it. “What if he doesn’t show up? My dad, I mean. What if he was happy the way things were and he doesn’t…what if he doesn’t have anything to say to me?” Worse, John thought, would be if Brian had messages to pass on to others but nothing for Nick, but he was certain Nick had thought of that already as well. Nick bit his lip, then sighed and said, as if he were trying to convince himself, “It doesn’t matter. I said goodbye to him a long time ago.”
There was nothing John could say to that. It was true, but he didn’t think Nick believed it.
He finished his drink in a long swallow, teeth aching from the chill of it. “That
Aye. Go. Before he gave into an impulse he’d been fighting and asked Nick what had gone wrong between them. That was a conversation John really didn’t want to have in public. He had a feeling it was going to go badly but then, the silence wasn’t working either.
But Nick didn’t move, just continued to sit back in his chair, nearly empty glass in his hand. When John looked at him, he said, “We don’t really talk, do we?”
“We never had to.” John could see the tables around them, filled with people chattering; animated, smiling faces -- but how much of what was being said was important, he didn’t know. Not much, probably. It was difficult for him after a lifetime of hiding a lot of what he was thinking and feeling, but he didn’t think it was any easier for Nick, either. “We always -- I
thought
we always just…knew.” He smiled wryly. “That sounds like something off a greeting card, doesn’t it? But I’d have put money on us being the one couple on the island who could share what we were feeling because of what we’d been through together. I never thought you’d shut me out the way you did.”
He’d known that would happen. Known that as soon as they started to talk, it’d all pour out of him. He folded his hands in his lap, fingers tightly interlaced, gripping hard enough to hurt, trying to distract himself from the memory of his bewildered, confused pain, then gave up and put them on the table. It hadn’t helped.
